


Reverberation

by aeruh



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Thunderstorms, a little bit of Connie, because that's all I seem to write, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:52:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeruh/pseuds/aeruh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, <i> Two Dorks in the Rain. </i></p>
<p>(In which the author throws a twist in the usual thunderstorm fic plot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reverberation

Jean first notices the clouds when he wakes. The windows of the barracks show a dark gray, almost too dark for it to be time to be up. Some half-asleep part of Jean's brain tells him it is probably only because it is four in the freaking morning, and no self-respecting person would be up so soon.

But as Jean slowly begins to rise, he realizes the gray is, indeed, clouds. They blanket the earth for as long as Jean's eyes can see. To Jean, they also look heavy with a promise of rain, and maybe some dramatic special effects, too. Of the lightning and thunder kind. 

It is no surprise when 3DMG training is cut short by Shadis after the clouds begin to darken even more, and instead he moves them on to martial arts, which Jean complains about until Annie flips him over and he's folded practically in two. 

Needless to say, the day does not seem to be going well. 

It is a godsend when Shadis announces training is over for the day. Still, the martial arts had been unnecessary; the clouds, which had refused to break open all day, do not seem to be about to let up. At this point, Jean just wishes it would rain already and it would be over with. 

The clouds, apparently, do not agree. 

After washing off the sweat and grime accumulated throughout the day, Jean feels a bit better, and he meets Marco in the boys' barrack for a time before everyone meets in the mess hall for dinner. Marco has cleaned up too; his hair is still damp, and clearly not combed yet. Jean can see that it is mussed, and his fingers itch to run through the black strands. 

He is able to keep his hand at his side, just barely. If Marco notices anything odd about the way his best friend is acting, he doesn't comment on it. Jean hopes he doesn't. 

Dinner is the same as it is every other night. Sometimes Jean thinks about complaining about it, but then he remembers the food shortages after Wall Maria fell and he decides bread and questionable soup is better than the possibility of starvation. He breaks his loaf in half, dipping one end into the bowl to make its contents a little easier to swallow.

Marco sits next to him. He does not seem to be having the same issue, and he eats his soup the normal way, if normal includes scooping spoonfuls of his own meal into Sasha's bowl when she isn't looking. 

He is, Jean decides, entirely too good for this hellhole of a world. And maybe he blushes a little, but when Connie brings it up he scoffs and blames it on the steam coming from the bowl, although his soup has already begun to cool. 

It is in the middle of this lighthearted banter when Jean finally sees it; a brilliant flash of light, only lasting a second before it is replaced with a cracking, deep _boom_ that can be felt in his chest. Some of the trainees squeal in surprise. Jean recognizes the sound and the light, and he knows that the clouds hanging over them all day have finally given in and broken. 

The thunder is followed shortly by the hard, relentless hammering of rain on the roof. 

Lightning is seen again through the window, and another crack of thunder can be heard. Some people huddle together and others go quiet. 

Marco, who's spoon had been frozen halfway to his mouth when the thunder was first heard, is moving in a second. The spoon slips from his fingers and clatters loudly on the tabletop, and then he is on his feet and running--no, _sprinting_ for the door, gone before anyone had time to react. 

Everyone else is staring at the spot where Marco used to be. It isn't long before questions are asked, some quieter than others. Jean stares at Marco's abandoned bowl as Connie asks hesitantly, "...Maybe Marco's afraid of thunder?"

To be honest, to Jean, Marco doesn't appear to be the kind of person who would fear a thunderstorm. But Marco is Marco, and there is a lot about him that Jean could never have been able to predict. That is partially why he first started falling for his best friend. 

Was Marco afraid of thunder, though? Jean tries to picture it, the freckled boy hiding away in some dark corner with his hands over his ears, and he doesn't like it much. 

Jean takes off in the same direction his friend went, and barrels through the doors to get outside. 

The boys' barrack is where he searches first. But Marco is not in his bed or under it; in fact, he isn't anywhere to be seen. He isn't tucked in one of the corners and cowering, he isn't in the building at all. 

The stables are Jean's next best bet. He can hear the horses whinnying nervously when thunder booms overhead again, and by now Jean is soaking wet from the pouring rain. Hay sticks to his boots and somehow he winds up with it on his damp clothing, but still he looks for Marco. 

But Marco is not hiding behind a stack of hay, eyes shut tight and head between his knees. He is not in the stables, and the only other living things that are are Jean and the horses. 

Jean can't think of many other places to look, and by now he is getting anxious. Marco is still nowhere to be found, and Jean can't stand the thought of him being alone and afraid somewhere. He deserves better than that. So much better.

So Jean heads back outside, in a desperate attempt to look around the training grounds and try to find him a second time. Instead of running blindly between buildings like before, he takes a moment to scan his surroundings.

And that's when he sees him. 

Marco is standing a ways off, out in the open as lightning strikes and a blinding, white branch of power hits the earth somewhere far away. Thunder rolls and Jean feels it reverberate in his heart. And Marco... Well, Jean can't be absolutely positive because he is too far away, but it looks like Marco... is laughing. 

His hands are outstretched as far as they can go, and Marco stands with his face lifted towards the clouds above. Jean can't hear it, but he can assume from the open smile and the shaking that Marco is indeed laughing, pure and delightfully, and he cups his hands in front of himself to catch the falling droplets of water. His hair is sticking to his forehead and he is completely drenched.

Jean doesn't think he's ever seen anything so beautiful, so innocent and wonderful in this horrid, bloody place humanity was forced to call its home. And it makes him smile too, the corners of his mouth curving up without him telling them to do so. 

Time passes by strangely, and Jean doesn't know how long they stood outside for. Eventually the rain begins to lighten up, after pouring to heavily, and when it dies down to a moderate shower Jean finally crosses the ground to come stand by Marco, who is still enjoying the last of the storm. 

It is when the rest of the trainees in the mess hall finally decide to brave the wet weather to get to bed that Jean makes it to his side. Marco holds still with his eyes closed and a content smile on his face, and Jean slowly leans over to press his lips to Marco's freckled cheek as thunder booms again. 

Instead of pulling away, the other boy hesitates for the slightest moment before he turns his head to face him, and he wraps an arm around Jean's shoulders. His free hand is pressed against Jean's own cheek.

There's a feeling in his chest again, almost similar to the feeling of the thunder. But still, it is different. It is lighter and softer and so much more powerful than the thunder ever could be. 

Jean never wants it to go away.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because there are a lot of fics where one character is afraid of thunder. I'm the exact opposite; I can never get enough. So I figured maybe Marco couldn't, either. He'd be the type to play in the rainwater when the streets flood and turn off everything in the house to hear the thunderstorms.


End file.
